I Am A Monogamous Woman Who Is In Love With A Non-Monogamous Man

Note: Names have been changed for privacy.I met him on Bumble. I was busy with motherhood and work and wasn’t really looking for a serious relationship. His profile drew me in. His dreadlocks hinted at a Bohemian energy that I imagined could tame my hyperactive brain. In every picture, he smiled like he loved life more than anyone I had ever known. There was also an air of mystery to his profile: a picture of a colorful elephant puzzle, missing one piece. I knew there had to be a reason for that missing puzzle piece and I needed to know what it was. I couldn’t wait to find out more about Xavier.

And find out more I did. Xavier, as it turns out, purposely leaves one piece out of every puzzle as a reminder that there is always more work to be done. He draws paintings on his apartment walls, runs 50ks, and takes architecture classes for fun. He can recite “Catullus 5” in Latin by memory and will drive to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania just to be in the city where his favorite football team competes. He is intense and intentional with everything he does, yet he also has a lackadaisical and go-with-the-flow energy. He is fulfilled by guiding others. He has a weird appreciation for those who say yes instead of yea, and he loves his hairless, high-maintenance cat Maximus like it’s his son.

Somewhere along the way, I also found out that he was non-monogamous. By that time I was madly in love with him, and yet I was, and am, without a doubt, a monogamous woman by nature and choice. Being in a committed relationship with one man fulfills me. I don’t find myself wishing I could date other men. I don’t feel like my needs aren’t met. I don’t dream of being single again. Xavier doesn’t feel the same way. He identifies as non-monogamous and makes no apologies about it. So his disclosure presented problems, and I left. The decision felt easy. The emotional pain? Not so much.

We didn’t speak for months. Every single day was painful for me. I did all the right things — the gym, therapy, and talked honestly with anyone who would listen. I wrote about it. I wrote about him. And as I processed it all, it hit me like a ton of bricks: The same reason I love this man is the exact reason we can’t be together. He isn’t like others. He doesn’t follow society’s rules. He requires intense stimulation. I love him because he is weird and dynamic and doesn’t fit in. Of course he is non-monogamous!

It started to make sense to me. I sat with this realization for weeks, asking, can I truly accept this? Can I love him for him — and all of him? Without any conditions? I came to believe that I couldn’t possibly ask him to be monogamous because even I agreed it didn’t fit. With this realization, it all started to feel a little lighter to me, and eventually we talked. He explained his lifestyle. He told me the reasons he couldn’t commit to one woman. I admired his honesty and vulnerability. Whatever it was he said in that moment, it made sense to me. It even sounded beautiful.

“I can do it,” I said, “I can be in a relationship with you as long as I don’t ever feel like I am one of many.” Because when I was with him, I always felt like the only woman in his life; and my life felt 10 times more beautiful with him in it.

We have been in some undefined, nontraditional relationship ever since. Most of these four and a half years have been effortless and beautiful. There are times when our communication is healthier than anything I have ever experienced. When we are both vulnerable and honest and respectful and mature. When we show and receive love well and put our egos aside. When I think that what we have is the most special, unique, and honest relationship to ever exist, and when I think that his non-monogamy is, ironically, partly responsible for all of this. Because it requires such strong, open communication and because my jealousy of other women has decreased, knowing that no one can take him away from me. I know he loves me.

Other times, it is as painful as that first break-up. Jealousy creeps in, and rather than speak it, I stuff it down. I pretend I am okay but I am not. I feel like I am stuck because my options are life without him and life with non-monogamous him, and sometimes I still want monogamous Xavier.

I can’t picture life without him. I love him exactly as he is. And I am grateful for our nontraditional relationship. It has taught me how to communicate. It has taught me the value of honesty and the art of speaking my truth. It has taught me to address conflict without raising my voice and name-calling and placing blame. It has taught me to love unconditionally, to accept another person exactly as he is even if it doesn’t fit my expectations. I’m not sure what’s next for us, but perhaps that elephant puzzle that now sits on my nightstand holds an important clue: There is always work to be done.Do you have a personal story you’d like to see published on BuzzFeed? Send us a pitch at essay-pitch@buzzfeed.com.